Moonlight
by Genis Aurion
Summary: [slash, oneshot] Kenny ponders.


**Moonlight **

Do you know that feeling where you can't just get enough of someone? Or maybe when you think you've gotten over someone but just can't seem to stop thinking of them? I definitely know how that feels. I'm actually positive I know that feeling.

I guess it's quite funny that I once promised myself that I would never fall in love. I had been watching so many movies on love and books on teenage infatuation. Many of them had illustrated heartbreaks, and I was set on the fact of never having to suffer from it. By never letting anyone into my heart – the one place I had peace – I was sure of never getting it broken by another someone.

For quite a long time I was able to manage this feat, although I was still admiring people from far away. After all, it was only an admiration, and it wasn't like I actually wanted to do anything with them. I considered it something like all those girls crushing some movie actor like Brad Pitt or Orlando Bloom.

But I failed my promise on one day in early May, when I took a school trip to Casa Bonita. I hung around with someone, who had a charming smile and an awesome personality. He was Caucasian, with jet-black hair, and was quite funny. Even though I had known him all my life I hadn't realized how... _pretty_... he actually was. I spent the rest of the night around him, and by the time I returned and fell flat on my bed, I had a smile on my face. Not the smile that you would give when you were happy, but the kind of smile that told you that you were in love.

Soon I got to know more about him, and was very sad to realize that the school year was ending. I had to say goodbye to him, and to all my few other friends of course.

In high school, the next school year, he was in one of my classes. At first this enlightened me, as I could just stare at him for a whole period. This of course, accounted for my slow start in my technology class. But soon my life faced those of teenage girls in movies. I began to worry. Worry on how much longer I could keep a secret about someone from that someone. My worry grew to much more than that, and I began to do things quite irrational, like cutting. I know, cutting is one of those "AVOID!" things in life. But later as I tell this story to my friends they ask me things along the lines of, "Your dad beats you and you're cutting over _this_?"

He was my friend though, and like many friends would do he tried to do something about the self-mutilating habit that I had acquired. But that only made it worse, in my view. Every time he asked me why I would do something such as this, it had pained me to make another excuse to not tell him. I was slowly pushed into the direction I had so promised myself to never be.

But on August 22, I did something about my situation. I called him one evening and confessed. About having liked him for so long, and how I had mutilated my skin because of a depression I had gotten from infatuation with him. To this day, I still thanked him for listening to me the whole time. Eventually he told me he wasn't mad at me, which relieved me. But from then on I knew that he, Stan, now knew my secret, and that I was gay.

I hope the whole time that you didn't think I was a girl, because I am not. Many who read this story of mine believe that, but I guess it is my fault for not mentioning my name or my gender any earlier than I should have. But in case you were curious, my name is _Kenny_, and I am a _guy_.

But back to my story… this is where my first question kicks in… perhaps it was that he had been so understanding, or that he didn't care who or what I was and still am… but I knew that I still liked him. Despite his rejection… despite my confession… I was still head-over-heels for him. And he knew this. Occasionally he would let me hold his hand for about three seconds, but otherwise I KNEW he wasn't going to like me anytime soon.

Oddly enough, this had gone on for a couple more months, even past the Winter Holidays, where I had passed by his house so many times one would have thought I lived there. My infatuation for him was dying out, which was a good thing. Perhaps I could relive my promise of never falling in love again.

Perhaps I spoke too soon. See, I was in this math club (people laugh at me all the time because they think I'm not smart enough to be in it, but in reality I am intelligent, and I'm in the club for a good college resume), and went to these competitions during the weekend. This particular competition was different, but not by much. Sure, almost no one except for a smart kid by the name of Kyle. Kyle could be considered a geek, one might say, but a very adorable geek at that. He had curly red hair, Caucasian, and a bit short for his age (which was against him since he liked basketball). But back to my story… like always, he had gotten a trophy for getting 3rd place, which was very good for anyone, but a disappointment for him. Surprisingly, I had also gotten a trophy, and suddenly I felt myself being congratulated by everyone.

What was so special about that? Nothing too much, at that time. After that we ate lunch at a nearby Wendy's (incidentally, one of our friends named Wendy works at one of these joints), which was actually not all that bad. But my decision after that… to this day I'm still not sure what had caused me to make it. Perhaps it was the fact that I ate lunch alone with him. Or maybe it was the moment I shared with him on stage. But I fell in love again… with Kyle.

As soon as I got back to school, I told Stan about my situation. He held my hand firmly and told me to follow what my heart told me to. I felt glad inside, knowing that there was someone I could trust.

Perhaps I was wasn't very elaborate when I was explaining me crushing before. Nothing compared to how I was acting now with Kyle. I had began cutting again, and even worse, I had overdosed myself with Aspirin. As I sat in the hospital, I reflected over my two mistakes I had committed: the first was to ever allow myself to like someone not once, but TWICE. The second was to ever tell someone that I was in the kitchen (if you could ever call it a kitchen I mean, since my family is so poor that we all basically live in the same room), holding twenty Aspirin pills in one hand, and fourteen sleeping pills in the other.

I squirmed my way out of that, stating to everyone that I had merely misread the labels. But I began to realize a lot more about my problem, and soon I knew that it was no use running away from something. So at my next competition, I promised myself to tell him.

As you might of guessed, I never keep up to my promises, and even for here, I didn't. The whole day went by with no word to him, but rather sulking at the back of the charter bus we had rode in. Luckily for me, I had friends that were here with me, and with a little help, I still got Kyle to know what I was going through.

The difference between the time I liked Stan and the time I liked Kyle was that in this case I really never found out the true result of the whole event. But I had evidence that I knew that he knew. He talked to me less and less, which gave me little hope at my second failure. But I had Stan to run to, and he gave me suggestions. On Valentine's Day that year, I bought Kyle flowers, all which said "I'm sorry; forgive me please." And he did.

He did… at least, that's what he had said. But he continued to feel uncomfortable around me, and slowly I began to feel sad again. "You already apologized," said Stan, "there's not much you can do after that." I listened to what he said, and slowly found a way to no longer have him as a part of my life.

But after a bit over a month, in April, I changed my mind. My birthday was approaching, and so suddenly I noticed that I couldn't live out my birthday with a feeling of hatred and regret. So I began to write notes to him, in which he answered. I learned that my – or our – problem was actually a nervousness of talking in person.

Kyle and I became better friends again after that. He even threw me a party. And now I was smiling more, not to mention laughing. And with that I finally learned my lesson. I couldn't always have someone to love on the first few tries. It was a trial and error process, and I had to search for a person to truly love. Not some random person off the street, but someone you knew you could enjoy being with. And when you failed, don't cut them from your life. Maybe it was just me, but one can have all the friends one needs, and a friend that went through a hardship with you probably has closer bonds with you too.

But I DEFINITELY wasn't done with love. April 28th was the party of my old friend Rebecca, and both Kyle and I had been invited to it, along with plenty of her other friends. We were good friends by then, and were talking throughout most of the party. I decided to have one last moment of fun.

So I did… I brought him outside onto the pier, where the moonlight shone magnificently, and the clear water of the lake reflected a beautiful sky overhead. I would be the first one to speak, and this time there would be no moderator to aid our conversation.

"Remember that time where I was too scared to say that I liked you?"

"Yeah." He nodded, and looked to the lake, "Wendy and Bebe had to tell me for you." He turned back to me. "Why?"

"Well," I began, "I don't think I'm scared of that anymore." I raised my hand to caress his cheek, and I lowered my head a bit to his. I felt his lips on mine, and I shuddered. The kiss lasted for only about three seconds, and when I let go, I said with a smile, "I think I still like you." He smiled, and I felt him grasp my hand and hold it.

"I feel really bad for saying this, but I don't like guys." He held my hand tighter, and continued, "But I understand that you do, me specifically. I don't care if you're gay, or if you like me, or even if you hold my hand. I'll still be your friend." He let go of my hand, took a deep breath, and said, "Just as long it isn't anything irrational like raping me, okay?"

"Okay." I guess sometimes you really can't get enough of someone. Rejection could lead to more and more pain between two people, or perhaps confusion or complete disarray. Consistently falling back in love with someone could produce the same result. But I pushed these trials aside and smiled, not the smile that told you that you were in love, but the kind of smile that meant you were happy. It didn't matter to me anymore what life had to throw in my way. I knew now that I could take on anything, even my dad's beatings when he was drunk. In my mind I would never forget how happy I would be, and how everything would always turn out as calm as I felt now.

Me, with him, under the magnificent moonlight.


End file.
